


The Elephant

by orphan_account



Category: Shameless (US)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3527288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did you know elephants can die from a broken heart?”</p><p>“Oh my fucking God,” Mickey coughed. “Do you read fuckin’ Hallmark cards in your spare time or some shit?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Elephant

**Author's Note:**

> I really liked Mickey's elephant shirt and wanted to write about it. I'm pretty shocked that I actually did.
> 
> This references all the times we've canonically seen him wear it (3x09, 5x02, and 5x08) plus some moments that I completely fabricated.

Mickey didn't buy clothes. He accumulated them. He took them from his dad or his brothers or they just showed up in his closet with no recollection of how they got there. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone shopping for clothes. Waste of his fucking time. But his jeans were starting to not fit quite right, and he could wear Colin's old ones if he really needed to but if he was being honest with himself (which he definitely fucking wasn't) he could use a pair of jeans that didn't make him look like he had just mugged an old lady with his homies.

So he went shopping. It wasn't even shopping, not really. He didn't do it for the fun of it and he didn't fucking dawdle or make a day of it. No, he went out to buy a pair of jeans. He was insistent on not going to more than one store, so he grabbed six pairs at the first place he walked into and tried them all on, determined that one of them would be just fine because they were fucking pants for crying out loud, who gives a shit what they look like?

And yet with every pair he tried on, in the back of his idiotic mind he couldn't help but wonder what Ian would think of them. Which was especially idiotic because it’s not like Ian was a fashionista himself; he wore Lip’s hand-me-downs and t-shirts that he’d gotten for five bucks at Target. And yet for some reason Mickey felt the need to consider his fucking opinion.

He came across one pair that he did like. Black, not tight but definitely tighter than what he normally wore. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and it didn’t feel like him. I felt like who he could be, maybe. Maybe one day.

He figured Ian would love them.

He bought the jeans with no intention of wearing them (and he didn’t, not for over a year; not until he’d heard Ian was back from the Army or wherever the fuck he’d been, and he wanted the first glimpse Ian got of him to be a memorable one) and grabbed another pair that looked a lot like some he already had. Whatever.

He hadn’t planned on buying anything else, but there was a sale. Two-for-one on some cheap t-shirts, and he figured he could use a couple new ones. Mandy had borrowed his favorite cut-off and spilled nail polish all over it, fuck her very much, so he took a second to look over the table of shirts.

He grabbed one black one with a white bird or some shit on it. It looked fairly badass so it would do. He was about to get two of the same shirts because all the others were lame as fuck until another caught his eye. It was brown with a large elephant head on it. Very badass.

He bought the shirts and the jeans and didn’t give much thought to any of it because _Jesus fucking Christ_ , they were just clothes.

 

* * *

 

The first time he wore the elephant shirt, Ian laughed.

“Dude, what the fuck is that shirt?”

They were at the baseball field, sitting on the pitcher’s mound smoking after a good fuck. Ian hadn’t noticed the shirt before, probably too anxious to get his dick in Mickey’s ass, but now he was definitely noticing it.

“What?”

Ian laughed harder. “That’s the gayest shirt I’ve ever seen.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey said defensively. “This shirt is cool.”

“There’s an elephant on it,” Captain Obvious pointed out.

“Yeah. And? Why you actin’ like its a fuckin’ flamingo or some shit.” Since when were elephants not cool? Mickey distinctly remembered Indiana Jones riding an elephant and looking fly as fuck while doing so.

“I mean, it’s not even a cool elephant, it’s like, fluffy or something,” Ian said as he reached out his hand to touch the shirt, running his fingertips across Mickey’s chest. “A snuffleupagus?”

“Get the fuck off me,” Mickey said, pushing Ian’s hand away and feigning anger. Even when he was making fun of his favorite shirt, Mickey couldn’t find it in him to get too pissed at the kid.

Ian laughed again. “Sorry, sorry. I have five siblings, I don’t know how to do anything but give people shit.”

“Oh yeah?” Mickey raised his eyebrows. “None of my siblings laughed at my shirt.”

“Have they actually seen it?” Ian asked, giving Mickey a skeptical look. Mickey was tempted to smack the expression right off his face because the fucking smartass knew the answer to that question already.

“Fuck you,” he said instead, scowling.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. Give ‘em time.” Ian was being playful and Mickey, despite being slightly embarrassed, was in his fucking glory. He loved it when Ian showed how much he liked him, even if Mickey couldn’t always reciprocate the display.

“Okay, Mr. Eight Ball.”

Ian looked down at his own shirt and back up to Mickey, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“I fucking hate you.” But Mickey couldn’t help but laugh as he said it.

 

* * *

 

The second time Mickey wore the shirt he hesitated before putting it on. He was going to meet Ian and he figured he could expect some more mockery if he wore it. But to be honest, seeing Ian smile, seeing his eyes crinkle as he laughed, yeah. It was totally worth it.

*

As Mickey approached the baseball field he noticed Ian lying on his back in the grass, looking up at the sky with a joint in his hand.

“We can’t fuck in the outfield,” he said as he walked closer, announcing his presence.

Ian seemed to snap out of a daze. “Thought we could just hang out for a while first,” he said gently.

Mickey stood above him and glanced down, taking in Ian’s relaxed face. He looked beautiful. And he looked fucking high.

“Hey, asshole. You already get high without me?”

“Just started,” Ian said, but Mickey could tell that he was already feeling the effect.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, lying down beside Ian. “Better be plenty left for me.”

“Yes, sir.” Ian blinked slowly and turned to face him, giving Mickey that look that he gave him once in a while when he was being less careful, less guarded than he should be. Mickey hated that look because he’d give anything to see it for the rest of his life.

Ian smiled at him before letting his eyes trail downward to Mickey’s chest. He pulled at Mickey’s half-zipped hoodie and his smile turned into a full-out grin.

“Nice shirt.”

“Jesus, man. It was funny the first time. Now I think it’s kind of a tired joke, yeah?” Mickey tried to look annoyed, attempted to keep a straight face but his lips turned into a smile as he held back a laugh.

Ian laughed softly and nodded, pulling his hand away from Mickey’s chest and turning his head back to the sky. “If you say so. Still funny to me. Mickey Milkovich in an ugly elephant shirt.”

“Hilarious.” Mickey grabbed the joint from Ian’s fingers and took a drag, filling his lungs with smoke.

“Did you know elephants can die from a broken heart?”

“Oh my fucking God,” Mickey coughed. “Do you read fuckin’ Hallmark cards in your spare time or some shit?”

Ian was unphased by Mickey’s dramatics. “I think I saw it on the Discovery channel or something. They just get so sad they can’t take it. And they die.”

“Fascinating,” Mickey said dryly. Ian was gently stroking his forearm with his knuckles and Mickey pretended not to notice. If he acknowledged it he’d have to make him stop. Mickey did a lot of pretending and ignoring these days. He didn’t want Ian to stop.

Ian knew that this touch was probably as close as he would ever get to Mickey. It was as close as Mickey would ever let him get, except for when they fucked. But as much as he loved fucking him and holding him close and being inside him, that was different. He wanted to touch Mickey constantly, in ways that showed exactly how he felt about him, ways that showed every different emotion that Mickey sent coursing through Ian’s body. But as his knuckles grazed Mickey’s skin, goosebumps forming at the touch, he felt lucky that he’d given him this much.

“Think people can die from a broken heart?”

“How much of this shit did you smoke, Gallagher?” It wasn’t like Ian to talk this much; it wasn’t like Ian to push Mickey’s boundaries and talk about love or broken hearts or whatever the fuck he was on about. Ian talked about that shit about as much as Mickey did, so it sent chills up his spine to hear Ian say it now.

“I’m just thinking.”

“No,” Mickey humored him. “I don’t think people can die from that. We’re too smart.”

Ian hummed a sound of acknowledgement and kept rubbing his knuckles against Mickey’s arm.

 

* * *

 

Mickey missed Ian.

He missed being able to hang out with him and just laugh with him about stupid shit. He figured now that his dad knew they wouldn’t be doing much of that anymore. That thought, paired with the thought of what had happened, made Mickey’s blood boil and his skin crawl. He could never stay in the house for too long, couldn’t even look at that fucking couch without remembering.

So he put on the shirt to remind him of Ian’s stupid laugh.

He put his favorite sweater on over it, feeling warm and safe which he really fucking shouldn’t considering the marks of Terry’s wrath had just barely faded from Mickey's face, a reminder that it could come again at any time. But he was safe for now, escaping the house for as long as he could manage, until it got too dark and too cold and he had to return.

He wore the shirt to remember Ian’s laugh and he grabbed a bottle of whiskey to help him forget it.

*

He was hurting Ian. He was hitting him and kicking him and hurting him with words he couldn’t say, no matter how badly Ian needed to hear them.

He was wearing the fucking shirt and he foolishly hoped Ian would see that as enough.

 

* * *

 

After Ian took off for the army, Mickey threw the shirt under a pile of shit in his closet. He didn’t want to think of Ian’s laugh or his stupid fucking jokes.

Besides, why would he want to wear something that was so weak it could die of a fucking broken heart?

 

* * *

 

Mickey had forgotten about the shirt for a while. Ian came back and the shirt stayed buried, and it wasn’t until he was taking off his suit and searching through his closet for something clean to wear that he found it again.

Mickey put the shirt on. Even if it was a gay shirt (which it totally wasn’t and he had no idea why the fuck Ian had said that), he was gay and out and all that shit so fuck yes he was going to wear his favorite shirt.

And if Ian laughed at him and made fun of his wardrobe choices again, well, that would just be a perk.

*

Ian didn’t laugh at the shirt. Didn’t even point it out. Mickey wasn’t even sure he’d noticed, too busy planning the downfall of some homophobic church.

It might’ve broken Mickey’s heart a little that Ian was too far away to acknowledge it, and that just made Mickey despise elephants even more.

 

* * *

 

Debbie’s visit had made it real. Ian was really sitting at home wondering where Mickey was, why he was ignoring him. Probably wondering why he had chosen such a fucking idiot to fall in love with.

Ian was sitting at home refusing his diagnosis, not taking his pills, scared out of his mind, and Mickey wasn’t there.

So Mickey took a shower, washing away three days of grime and sobering up as much as he could. He went to get dressed, rummaged through his closet where all of his clothes were now on hangers (thanks to Ian), and he saw the shirt.

*

Mickey crawled into Ian's bed, making a promise as he stroked Ian's cheek.

It wasn't long before Ian was fast asleep. Mickey stayed up for a while just watching him, knowing he could never drink him away. He never wanted to.

*

Ian had been awake for a few minutes but hadn’t moved. His head remained pressed against Mickey’s shoulder, letting Mickey rub soothing circles on his arm with his thumb. Ian squinted his eyes open, just enough to see that there was light streaming in through the window. It must be morning, or maybe afternoon. He felt like he had slept for a week.

“Mick?” he said, his voice rough with sleep.

“Hm?”

Ian pressed himself closer to Mickey’s chest, his nose nuzzling the elephant. “I like your shirt.”

Mickey smiled and kissed Ian’s hair. It was pretty badass to love someone so much that you could die from a broken heart. Mickey figured he could probably relate.

**Author's Note:**

> Special shout out to thehummingbirdsound on tumblr for inspiring me with [this](http://thehummingbirdsound.tumblr.com/post/113292221668) headcanon. 
> 
> Another shout out to Linda for randomly telling me she heard that elephants could die from broken hearts, thus inspiring this fic.
> 
> And a final shoutout to Cait and Shannon for being weird enough to discuss Mickey's wardrobe with me.
> 
>  
> 
> For more strange things like this you can find me on tumblr: [backstreet-gurl](http://backstreet-gurl.tumblr.com)


End file.
